


First date

by Strudelmugel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bad Poetry, Erotic Poetry, First Dates, Love Poems, M/M, Poetry, they're both poets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 00:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: It turns out both Adriaan and João had decided to document their first date in the same format, but their styles were rather... different.





	First date

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd put what I've learnt at uni to good use... just not here, because this is a little... "male author". I had fun writing this, though.  
> There is smut in this, but told through bad erotic poetry so it's both explicit but not. But horrifying.

“You wrote a poem? Of our date?” Adriaan had to say he was flattered. And a little weirded out, had he not done the exact same. That was what poets did, he supposed. Document their lives in the most pretentious way possible and hope people liked it in death, or they could sell enough copies of their anthology to get a job at a university. “That is… sweet of you.”

João just smiled back lovingly, enveloping him in a hug. “It’s nothing, my dear. Just… a little something, based on all those emotions you made me feel.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Not at all, darling,” he pulled out a small wad of papers, “now, this is just a first draft. I haven’t had time to properly go over and edit.”

There were several pages, in João’s neat, loopy, and frankly perfect handwriting. Adriaan couldn’t believe his fucking eyes.

“Oh, wow. That is… did you get any sleep since last week?”

“Of course! I just… I had a lot to say.” He looked sheepish at that, and Adriaan wondered if it was a good idea to-

Well, he’d have to read and find out. He took the sheets of paper.

  
  


Adriaan

 

You are ocean water, cupped in my hand,

The graveyard of the tempest, pools of pearls,

The stone on the beach that shines with kissed curves.

You are the sun in the shallow seas, green

Cashmere falling, falling into my heart.

You are the ocean, and I, a wandering sailor, 

Am falling further and further into your warmth.

 

You blink and the gems that light my life

Disappear, even for a moment, the knife

In my heart twists and pulls and I yearn

For those eyes. Pull me in and make me

Your island, your satelite, my lorelei.

Scoop me into your heart, jaded jade-eyed man,

Let me lie in your eyes and dip my fingers in your soul.

 

Adriaan couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. And he was only two stanzas in.

 

You are the sunken ship the world forgot,

Your teal treasure lost to all who care not to look,

You are the morning sky, battles etched into your heart,

And cliff face, of chiselled rock and rugged carving

Out a story I long to explore in every detail,

And you, in your grace, bequeathed me with such

A chance to present the love you deserve, courtship.

 

The brightest flower in his garden, a gem in Eden,

We recline in fine view as poetry drips from our lips,

And kiss at my heart and scorch it like wine, love

Fermenting as you pour fragments onto the grass

For me to pluck and savour like ripe oranges,

The honey and tang dribbling down our cheeks

And you laugh a real laugh, a prisoner of the

 

Cage in your heart. A prisoner you offer to me,

Freely, a hostage released on no terms for me,

Gifts you spread before me on a platter like the

Picnic you made from scratch. Books for me to read,

The anthology you never published. I long to read your

Library. Caress your pages and savour your poetry,

Live in the room of your life. 

 

I longed to savour the rose that smiles reluctantly,

Wilted, cracked, but red with life I can trace

With my fingers and tongue. Let me lick every nucleus

In your body and peel back the layers of your shell,

To dissect and study, like a butterfly under pins,

Like the future written in the dregs of tea leaves,

Like the future I carve into my mind, with you.

 

Kissing you is like kissing the salt of the ocean,

Like tasting oranges in the streets of Faro,

Like fresh fish, like cheese or honey,

Kissing you is letting a wave crash over my face

And brush it’s moist fingertips against my shoulder.

You are the ocean I would drown in, should I

Choose to become a painting of death,

 

I think dying in you would be a beautiful death,

Drowned mortal tasting love in a bed or

The grass under my back that tickles the shells of my ears,

Like I would find shells for you as we walk

Along the beach, earth-made gifts for you.

Like this gift, burning me with your love and loins,

And perky nipples through your shirt.

 

Adriaan blushed at that. He felt a weird urge to ask João if he’d ever written erotica, and if it was as… interesting as this. Also he was never putting out on the first date again.

 

I felt every inch of your manhood as fire

Burned through every muscle,

I taste your flesh like a parched man craving a 

Drop of water from a pipe.

You pull my hair to let me know you own

My heart and soul and fire and salt.

Your lips on my mouth like a breathing mask.

 

In the jeweled beauty of your garden,

Among the watering cans and herbs,

And an audience of flowers and locks of vines,

I screamed and bit into your shoulder

Like a demon you were trying to subdue,

With your phallus, your meat rod.

Until I was a puddle in a puddle,

 

With a puddle on my chest.

And your sculpted chest heaved,

And your nipples battled mine

For dominance and sensation,

And my lungs pleaded for breath,

And my heart pleaded for you

 

To never let me go.

And, tasting sweat on your neck,

As your twitching manhood lay across my abdomen,

And I fed you the last of the cake,

Aiming for your mouth and landing on your nose,

 

Followed by my lips and laugh,

And your ghost of a chuckle,

I long to hear time and time again,

And find more rooms

 

In your heart, explore the locked affection,

And open you up like the pages of your

Hidden anthology, my dear

 

Please let me see you again,

So I can show you my heart, and let me

 

Love you.

 

  * By João Guilherme Pinto do Nascimento Pessoa, with love



 

Adriaan read it, then read it again. On the third reading, his brain started working and João looked ready to faint in anticipation. Adriaan wouldn’t put it past him.

“This is…” normally, when presented something this… incredibly, hideously bad (but also not terrible in parts, mostly at the start) he’d rip it to shreds, but João seemed so genuine, so earnest and loving, he couldn’t bring himself to shit on it.

“I love this,” he tried, “thank you. No one’s ever done this for me.” He’d written poems for lovers before, usually a few months into the relationship and never as long. And never using the word “manhood”. “It’s a little… intense, for a guy you met a week ago. But I guess you don’t mean any harm?”

“I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“So do I, but behind bulletproof glass.” Adriaan thought about it for a moment, then tentatively reached into his bag for his notebook. “I… wasn’t going to show you this, but you showed me yours, and that was brave of you, so…”

He found the relevant page and handed it over.

  
  


Tulip view

 

I doubt

My neighbours appreciated,

Me 

Pounding you next to the picnic blanket,

In plain view, 

In the garden,

But your eyes 

Would twinkle as you read

Poetry,

From the anthology I never

Showed anyone 

Before.

 

Something 

About your beautiful soul, 

made me 

Want to hold mine 

Out to you.

 

João read it with tears in his eyes, saying nothing. Adriaan wondered if he’d cry, or want to sleep with him again. What he didn’t expect, though, was for João to get down on one knee.

“Will you marry-”

“Absolutely not.”


End file.
